I Minne
by Azure Dragon of the North
Summary: Inspired by the first book: when Eric says he has enjoyed psychics in the past. Eric vists the grave of a long-dead friend, paying respects to her memory. Even 1000 year old vampires can fall in love; if only for a short time. This story is complete.


I Minne

(Translates to _in memory_)

Ink black shadows seemed to dodge and dash between the trees; slipping over the countless headstones. There was no sound; as if this place really was just for the dead. It seemed fitting then; that Eric would be here. Moving silently across the grass; his usual wardrobe of black and leather was not in play here. He wore a dark suit; white shirt and dark tie. His shoulder length hair was loose around his broad shoulders. He walked on bare feet; his shoes left in his car. In one hand he carried a bouquet of red roses; they had been her favorite. In his other hand he carried a small Discman player.

Eric continued his way across the graveyard; head bowed, feet silent. In the farthest corner of the huge yard; was a lone head stone. Weather and time had worn the words carved into the grey stone. Grass had grown over it; the ground was smooth. If not for the headstone, you wouldn't know there was a grave here. The vampire stopped at the headstone; kneeling down, he sat back on his heels. Silently he set the disc-player on the grass and pressed PLAY.

Soft, almost whimsical strains filled the silent yard. Lyrics joined the gentle song. They were sang in a gentle, innocent voice. Just like her voice had been.

_Come with me; into the trees, we'll lay on the grass_

_And let the hours pass_

_Take my hand, come back to the land_

_Let's get away, just for one day. _

_(let me see you stripped, down to the bone)_

_Let me hear you speaking just for me._

Eric looked to the flowers in his hand. He took one of the roses out; the thorns cut his thumb. He watched as a single drop of his blood hit the grass. The cut healed over; he lay the rose on the grass.

"I know I haven't been here in a while," He whispered softly, "A long time, actually." He paused, his mind filling with memories. "I should have come more often. We finally made our announcement to the world; they know about us now. I am enjoying the club-owner business. The money is decent." He paused again; he made himself look at the headstone.

_Quinntara Marie Peterson_

_Born February 29, 1972_

_Died August 17, 1999_

_Sister_

_Friend_

Eric touched the cold stone; his hands were colder, he couldn't feel the stone. But he felt he the words carved near the grass. He'd done them himself, the first year he had come to see her.

_Belov'ed companion_

He had carved those words with his own hands, nine years ago. He sighed; dropping his hand; taking out another rose he set it on her grave.

"I hope you are well, wherever you are." He whispered. IN his mind the memories took hold and he surrendered to them.

_Flashback_

Soft music played in the room; haunting and emotional. Eric heard the footsteps at his door; he looked up from the book, firelight danced around the room. The locks on his door slid back under the key; she opened it and stepped in. He studied her; she wasn't beautiful really. Not like some women; but there was something in her eyes; a warmth, a total acceptance, that made her stunning.

She locked the door and faced him; her smile was genuine. She looked around; as she always did, even though nothing had changed since her last visit. She removed her shoes before stepping onto the collection of fur rugs.

Eric was propped up against a huge pillow; draped in fur. He lay against the fur; one knee up, the other leg lay flat. He rested his arms on his raised knee; holding the book toward the fire. He could see perfectly in the darkness; but he liked the way the shadows moved across the page. He felt her watching him; looking up he was startled at the awe-struck look on her face.

"What is it?" He asked softly.

"You," She said honestly, "You're breathtaking."

He smiled at her, "I've heard that before."

She was sitting crossed legged a few feet from. Firelight danced across her features; her hair shone with the orange-gold caress. Her blue eyes were shadowed; they had been always been sad, but now they seemed heartbroken. He didn't like seeing her so sad; but had learned long ago, that Quinntara didn't want sympathy.

"How did the appointment go?" he asked, setting his book aside.

She watched him for a long time; captivated by how the light moved over his chiseled arms. His chest was sculpted like a great masterpiece; the orange-gold light seemed to caress his white skin like a lover. Against the darkness of the furs he seemed to shine like a star.

"I am dying," She told him simply, she'd come to terms with it. "But I knew that before he called."

Eric studied her face, "You're at peace with it."

"I have no choice," She looked into the fireplace, studying the flames. "I did tell them; they just got angry with me. As if I chose to get brain cancer."

He knew now what had put those shadows in her eyes. "Did Max at least understand?"

She shook her head, very slowly, "He wouldn't look at me. He just sat across from me, staring at the floor. He was squeezing his hands so tightly that they were white."

"He'll get over it," Eric assured her, "He's a strong man, he has your strength."

She smiled sadly, "At least he has something from me. I see so much of Tyson in him; that I have to wonder sometimes."

Eric was quiet; not sure what to say to her.

"You know what Tyson said to me?" She laughed, it was weak. "That I had no right to die. Can you imagine?" She shook her head, "He said that I was being selfish for not accepting treatment."

"You never have wanted it." Eric reminded her softly, "Last year, when we suspected it, you said you would never have treatment."

"I know," She looked down at her hands. "I have only weeks left." She looked up at him, "I want you to end my life, Eric."

He frowned, sitting up slightly. "Why me?"

"I don't want to die a mindless vegetable. The cancer will destroy my mind before it destroys my heart. I want to die as me, not as a shell of who I was."

He looked into the flames, "They will not understand."

"They don't need to." She told him honestly. "They turned away from me years ago; my final days will be my own. Just as my death will be my own."

Eric watched the flames sway and swirl; throwing light and shadow around the room. He didn't blink, despite the bright lights. His mind worked on her words; on her calm statement of fact. She had already accepted her death; she knew her days were numbered. There was no fear in her; no hesitation. He admired her; he honestly did. She had been fighting an uphill battle all her life. Never once had she complained or said no. She had just accepted her life circumstances and held her head high. Even now, with Death standing in her shadow; she wasn't afraid.

"I could always be your Maker," He said gently.

"I had considered that," She told him, "But no, thank you. I am ready to leave this world; I will return to it one day. Perhaps we might even meet again."

He looked at her, "Quinn, I don't know why you would want to die at all."

She moved closer to him; sitting next to his feet. She touched them. He watched her fingers run along his flesh. She rubbed his feet; gently, almost comfortingly.

"I am tired, Eric." She said carefully. "I have been tired of my life for a long time. It is a blessing that my remaining time is short. I am peaceful, finally. I can let go of this existence and not feel short-changed."

He shook his head, "You're admitting defeat."

She smiled gently, "Perhaps, I am." She continued to rub his feet, "But this life has been hard on me. I am already weary of it, and it's only been twenty-seven years. This life has taken so much from me; I fear there is nothing left for me to give."

He moved in a blur; grasping her hands, pulling her into his arms. "There is more to you then anyone knows."

From inches away he stared into her eyes; he saw the green flecks in the depths. She looked at him with calm eyes. Her arms slid around his back; her flesh warm against his cold skin. She held him to her; resting her head on his chest. He closed his eyes. The soft song kept them company as they held one another.

"You're the only one who knew me as I am." She whispered softly, "You truly accepted me. And for that I will always love you."

He listened to her voice; so soft, so tender. "Quinn, I can't let you go."

"And yet I cannot stay." She whispered, "I am tired, Eric. Well and truly tired of this existence. The next time I return, I hope to be just human. Like so many others. I hope that there will be no psychic powers; no past life memories. I would like to return I think, as a flower."

He frowned at that, "A flower?"

She nodded her head, "They are so beautiful, and they bring joy. Giving of flowers can mean so many things. They bring smiles, laughter, hugs and warmth. They are always innocent and know nothing of the harsh world."

"But they die so quickly."

"It would be a short life then."

Eric relaxed back against the mound of furs; she was still cradled in his arms. "What kind of flower would you be?"

She smiled, lifting her head, she looked at him. "You know that answer to that."

He smoothed her dark hair away from her face. "A rose."

She nodded, "A bright, vibrant, red rose. Hopefully given in love to someone."

He gently pulled her close; kissing her lips. She lay still for a moment; not sure what to do next. He let her go. She blinked, wide eyed and amazed.

"Don't tell me that was your first kiss," He insisted.

She looked away, withdrawing from him. She sat on her own; Eric sat up. He moved to lie closer to her; his head resting in her lap. She smiled down at him; her fingers caressing his face in soft, loving motions.

Eric reached up and caressed her cheek, "I knew you were shy; but this is a little much."

Her face softened as her shy nature peeked through her eyes. "You know my past; you know I am inexperienced at this."

He lowered his hand, resting it across his stomach. "There is inexperienced and then there is inexperienced."

"Sorry to disappoint you," She said quietly.

"I am not disappointed," He assured her; placing his hand over hers, stopping them on his cheek. "It is not disappointment, Quinn."

"Then what is it?"

He sat up, going to his knees; he faced her. Gently he moved his hands through her hair. The silken mass was heavy but strong. Despite her illness, her body was still strong. Her hair was warm to his hands; and it called him to come closer. Carefully, he leaned inward. Rising from his knees just slightly. Tenderly he kissed her lips; a gentle touch for a mere moment.

He heard the quickening of her heartbeat. Her skin warmed under his hands as blood rushed to her cheeks. As he sat back he saw the soft rosy glow in her face. In that moment she was beauty personified. Her eyes were wide, sparkling with awe. Her lips half-parted, they pouted in a seductive manner; of which she was totally unaware.

"So that is what a kiss is," She whispered, breathless, "Now I know what all the fuss is about."

"So I am your first kiss," He smiled softly; his face reflected the joy in his heart. "I had not imagined such a thing. "Let me show you what a kiss is really about."

Eric slid his arms around her; as he lowered his mouth to hers.

_End of flashback_

Blood drops splattered on the grass as he wept. He was huddled next to the grave; kneeling on the grass. His hands covered his face; thin lines of blood darkened his white flesh. Drops of blood fell to the earth. In all of his 1000 years; he had never thought anyone could love him so completely. One of the man beauties about Quinn, was her capacity for love. She saw the world as good; even though she knew first-hand it wasn't. She refused to give up on her ideal that goodness lived in everyone. Even him; she had loved him wholly and utterly.

Ten years later; he could still feel her warmth in his heart. He could still remember her beautiful smile; her bright laughter. She was the angel he often saw in his sleep. She would skip across his mind; sparkling with the dust of the Heavens, she would smile at him; waving as she went.

Eric sucked in a breath, wiping his face. He placed another rose on the grass-covered grave. His mind flooded with memories again. Tears followed and didn't stop them. The final night she came to see him; she had asked him for one final act.

_Make love to me, _she said softly, _I have never known a loving man in my life. I would like my final memory to be of love._

He had willingly granted her request. In all the centuries he had lived; and the countless women he had held; none had been so moved by the experience. Afterwards, she had cuddled in his arms; crying softly.

_Why do you cry? Did I hurt you?_

_No,_ she smiled at him, her face honest, _It was beautiful; it was more then I had ever dreamed it could be. I am ready now; please, send me home._

Eric could still taste her blood in his mouth; even after ten years and countless others. Her blood had been sweet; like nectar. As though her life's blood had been made of honey and sweet fruits. He had never tasted blood so pure; so sweet. Not until that night and not since then. She had been the only one.

The song next to him ended; he opened his eyes. "I will come again, Quinn." He whispered. Slowly he stood up; not bothering to brush the dirt from his knees. There was one rose left; he laid it across the top of the stone. Leaning down he kissed the cold surface. His eyes squeezed shut as he struggled not to cry.

"We will meet again," He promised; slowly he turned away. Crossing back through the yard; he heard musical laughter and looked up. Pale light shone down from the moon; spilling across the land. He paused as her face clarified and she smiled at him. He watched as she danced among the shadows. Her silver outline flowed gracefully and neared him.

She came to stop in front of him; her silvery-white hand gently touched his. He could feel her fingers wrap around his hand. Her eyes filled with laughter as she leaned in and kissed his lips. That sent a shock down his system; his blood tingled.

_I am well, Eric. Thank you for coming tonight._

"Quinn?"

_That is the name you may call me. I am grateful to you, for making my final moments so happy._

He stood silently, watching her face. "You look so happy."

She smiled at him, "You have always brought me joy, Eric."

"No one has ever said that to me."

She leaned in again and kissed him, softly. _"Go in peace, my Viking. For that is how I went, peacefully, happily, and full of joy." _

Eric's chest tightened, Godric had said those same words; that he was full of joy.

_Be safe in this world of yours. I don't want to see you here with me for quite some time._

He smiled then, "Count on it, I am enjoying my newfound popularity."

And as suddenly as she came, she vanished. And Eric knew he was alone; the yard was quiet, the shadows were the only company. He pulled in a deep breath; a smile played along his lips as he continued to walk. Once at his car he put his shoes back, over bare feet, and started the engine. He glanced back, one last time, the distance too far for even him to see, the headstone in the shadows.

He drove away from the graveyard and for the first time in ten years; he felt truly at peace.

**


End file.
